


Casual Habit

by jl_micasea



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: All Rights Reserved, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Feels, Casual Sex, Do Not Translate, Do not repost, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Partying, Pet Names, SKz Smut, Sex Toys, Smoking, Stray Kids Smut, Swearing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vaginal Fingering, feelings of detachment, mild objectification, seungmin knows what he's doing, stray kids x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jl_micasea/pseuds/jl_micasea
Summary: You’re a bored college student. He’s a distant classmate. You both have needs and desires. It’s just that simple.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Casual Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from my old Tumblr account.  
> Particularly proud of this one shot. Fun fact, the party described at the tent is actually based off one I attended during Uni days. It really was as gross as it sounds. Feedback welcome via AO3 or through Tumblr. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment on this if you enjoyed it, they're all responded to and are what keeps me motivated. ~Mica  
> ~ [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/)  
> ~ [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)

##### Smoking was a terrible habit.

You’d grown up, just as many others had, listening to the lectures and warnings of those who’d never smoked and of ex-smokers themselves. Warnings of bad health and an untimely demise, both of which would be wrought on you through the mundane little act.

Finishing a pack of the tobacco filled sticks supposedly shaved exactly twenty-eight minutes off your life span every time.

Twenty-eight minutes was no great loss in itself, and you maintained that, for the most part. It was barely enough time to achieve anything of note.

Yet you wondered, now and then, what all those twenty-eight minutes added up to for you. Months? Years? Decades?

You supposed it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Immediate indulgence and gratification had always been more attractive to you. Perhaps that was reckless, you could understand why some might think it would be. But you’d never seen the point in holding back. In hesitating or denying yourself the good things on the off chance that something might go wrong at some point.

Long term problems, you surmised, were just that. _Long_ term. Whenever they made themselves known, cropping up to dampen what little happiness you’d found by then, that version of yourself would surely be better equipped to handle them than you were now. Or so you hoped.

The you of right now, of the present day, would enjoy herself. Would drink in the highs and lows of youth while they were still easily accessible, and while you still could. The smoke of the cigarette, the sting of the booze, the life of the parties and the highs of sex.

You’d take your vices where you could get them, and perhaps that meant you lived up to the stereotypical archetype of a raucous college student. But that was fine. The opinions of others had never held much weight with you anyway, much less those of your air-headed peers and nondescript classmates.

You got through your days while watching the clock. Counting down the seconds until the monotone drawl of the Professor ended and you could consider your academic duties done, leg it back to your apartment, and crash out. Indulge in one of the many vices you’d taken to.

And just lately, that happened to be in the form of a man.

One whom you’d met over such a cursed cigarette at the back of the college campus. One of your classmates, no less. And one that you had, until several months ago, associated with the shallow masses until he’d seemed to stand out from the very background everyone else blended into.

He’d caught your attention from across the room, and while he was glaringly good looking, moreso than that, it was the look on his face that had resonated with you. His features, sharp and defined, could undoubtedly be attributed to the attention he commanded, but you felt there was something deeper there, lurking just under the surface. Something that piqued your interest.

A look of glazed disinterest claimed him, his head resting plainly in the palm of his hand as he flipped several chapters ahead of the book you were supposed to have been reading along with the Professor. Just as you always did.

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it after a moment with clear indents in the flesh that swelled beautifully as the blood returned to them. You caught the way his lids fluttered gently. It was brief, easily missable, and only just enough to indicate that the small action might have been more than just a habit, that it was ridden with something akin to pleasure. Just as you always did.

And finally, perhaps the more notable moment for you, was the glance he afforded in your direction. Straight at you, in fact. It could have been that he’d felt you staring, or it could have been sheer chance that he just happened to look your way. But he did, and with the unexpected connection, he swallowed clearly. Harshly. Just as you did.

The cigarette had come after that.

You’d watched the plumes of smoke seep from your lips, drifting with the upwind and dissipating into the canopy of trees above you. They shielded the place you were in, the secluded spot at the rear end of the campus, only accessible through the back door of the cleaning building. Off limits to students, of course, though that had never stopped you.

The crunching of dried leaves beneath feet and a throat being cleared had pulled you from your daze, from your imaginings of his very face.

He’d introduced himself as Seungmin. You’d returned the sentiment.

He’d asked for a drag of your cigarette. You’d indulged him.

He’d told you he hated this place. You’d agreed.

And with that simple exchange, came the implementation of yet another bad habit. A vice for your urges, an outlet for your desires, and his.

An entirely casual arrangement.

* * *

##### The darkness that surrounded you was filled with tension, the air heavy with lust and seeping warmth.

The scent of sex flooded your senses, a familiar dryness claiming your throat with the way your listless groans and exclamations of pleasure ripped from it.

You’d never needed to ask for much in the way of sex with Seungmin. Previous partners had always fallen short in some way or another, needing your instruction or guidance to tell the difference between the cervix and the g-spot, the first often being mistaken for the latter, much to your annoyance.

But not with him.

With him, it was chemistry. Instinct.

And perhaps that was a simple product of the many things you appeared to have in common with him, of your like-mindedness. You had similar tolerances for bullshit, in that neither of you had any. Got similar enjoyment from the things of a more carnal nature, things that were considered taboo by wider society. Felt similarly rebellious, in much of the things you did.

But it almost didn’t matter to a point.

Your first time together, he’d made a point of exploring you. Discovering what made you tick, what made you gasp, what made you moan in that way that he simply seemed to live for hearing. You’d allowed it, in utter bewilderment that he’d managed to subvert your expectations so early on, and wildly grateful that he had.

Because it was an endless payoff.

“Turn around for me, kitten.”

The pet names were a bonus. Again, never something you’d been subjected to before with other partners, but Seungmin had proved more than once that there were things you didn’t know about, and subsequently, couldn’t live without.

You complied as best you could, finding your feet as he dropped your legs from his waist and removed himself from you.

A gentle, guiding hand on your hip spun you around when he found your strength to be more lacking than he’d thought thanks to his earlier enthusiasm, and your legs were kicked apart with a gentle motion of his foot.

“You can keep going, right?”

“Y- Yes…” you breathed, your burnt cheek cooling with the connection to the cold wall of your living room. You wanted nothing more than to keep going, and in truth, felt like you might die if he didn’t fill you again, and soon.

“Good girl…”

Fingertips traced down your clammy spine, an affectionate kiss pressed to your shoulder blade before he tugged you backwards by your hips, just enough to get you to bend beautifully.

Tremors set in to your thighs as he slid his rigid cock, slicked with your arousal, through your gap. Firm and slow, it was an action meant to tease and wind you further into the submission he wanted. As though you weren’t already completely there.

A quiet whimper from your lips caused him to chuckle, and the sinful groan that you expelled as he eased himself back inside you was nothing short of relief.

He filled you to the hilt, your walls moulding around him, greedy and wanting. Gentle movements of his hips were almost experimental as he started to move, your palms splaying out against the wall in front of you for support.

One plunge after another, each one of them intensifying in force, each one of them sending sparks of white hot pleasure through your already taut core. He fucked you so deeply, so attentive in his angle and motions that you knew yourself to be doomed for him. There was surely no one else who could satisfy you like he could.

“F- Fuck… _please_ -” you whined, your eyes screwing shut with the building pressure in your sex.

“Please what, baby?”

You hadn’t been begging for anything specific. Hadn’t been pleading for one thing or another. You just simply wanted him to know how fucking _good_ it was, in any terms you could manage.

“S- So… so… _mhm_ -”

A low moan emitted from him with your nonsensical babbling, and you hoped he knew. You felt like he did. There was no way he couldn’t, for even if your vocal ability had failed you, your body’s response to him was an involuntary thing.

You were impossibly wetter, soaking in every manner of the word as he worked you, his thick girth claiming you, again and again. He retracted to the head as he moved, though not fully, knowing that the swell of his tip would grace your tender g-spot with particular attention in this position. Better to utilise that than to pound you senselessly, although you wouldn’t have been averse to that.

But you knew Seungmin was. For he was a passionate lover, a giver in every sense, and with his new technique he had reduced to short, rutting motions as he graced your sensitive spot with particular attention.

The pressure built with every stroke, his patience endless as you quivered and panted before him. You desired more, wanted to be stretched deeply with every inch of him, but that want was being replaced with the overwhelming need to release with each passing second, and you knew that to be a result of his well placed efforts.

You could count on one hand the number of times you’d resorted to squirting in all your years of life so far. Didn’t even need a hand to count the number of partners that had helped you achieve it, because none of them had. It had always been through your own doing.

“Mhm, baby… You’re close, right?” He purred, long fingers tracing down your spine, his other hand holding you at the curve of your waist.

“You’re going to make a mess for me, aren’t you?”

“I… I can’t- _can’t_ , f- fuck-”

A string of curses ripped from you, the pressure in your core now unbearable. You couldn’t hope to contain it, couldn’t catch your breath as his broad head nuzzled to your spot, caressing and stimulating, edging into release.

“Let go… Show me, baby.”

And so you did. You threw your head back, but your hands slipped from the wall before you with the sweat they’d collected and the strength you’d lost. Seungmin caught you promptly, one strong arm around your middle as he spun you and placed you over the back of the sofa.

Your orgasm was in full swing, a mess of substance and release spraying from your sex, coating both your legs and his. You clawed at the sofa, one staggered cry after another as he remained inside you, edging your g-spot all the while. He fucked you through it slowly, not in the least bit phased and actually appearing to become stiffer with the way you soaked him. Euphoric pleasure gripped you, hazing your mind and dulling every one of your senses, your muscles seeming to evaporate with the sensation of everything as your knot gradually uncoiled.

He didn’t need to ask if you were okay. Didn’t need to confirm that you could keep going, because the moment he tried to pull out of you, you’d stopped him.

Thrown your hands to your back, gripped at his wrists feverishly. You’d tugged him forwards, pulling him back in, urging him silently to keep going. Because he hadn’t finished yet, and as exhausted as you were, you needed that.

“Baby… You know how proud I am of you right now?”

“D- Don’t… Don’t patronise me,” you breathed, propping yourself up on shaky arms so you could glare back at him. “Just fuck me.”

He cocked his head, a single eyebrow raised with your challenge.

“Yes, ma'am. Fuck.”

* * *

##### [22:42] Are you coming over tonight?

While you weren’t working to any kind of strict schedule with Seungmin, he’d promised you he would make time for you tonight.

Not that time was what you cared about, quality or otherwise. It was moreso what you did _with_ that time that mattered to you.

You’d been too highly strung since your last feral encounter with him, and that had been a little over two weeks ago. Classes and assignments had cropped up in the meantime, making themselves an unwanted priority if either of you ever hoped to graduate with the degree you’d come here for.

You hated the responsibility. Hated the fact that someone else, another institution, was dictating to you what you could and couldn’t do. What you had to make time for, when you’d rather have been spending it on something else. _Someone_ else.

But, you knew that needs must, and this was a prime example of one of the things you’d just have to get used to if you ever hoped to have a shot in the real world. Time management, while annoying, was a very real life skill, and you knew that your cravings for things less than PG would have to take a backseat, for the time being.

Yet that didn’t make it any less difficult. You wondered how people ever did it, buried their urges and dark sides to put on a face presentable enough for society. Perhaps even moreso because you were tempted with him during classes themselves, running into him on campus here and there. It was like having the devil himself wave a ripe, red apple in your face, running before you could ever hope to take a bite of the delicious thing. Seungmin was a hopeless temptation. One that you’d have to bury in public until you could expel it in private.

Those accidental encounters were over as quickly as they’d begun however, and you’d never exchanged more than a few words or brief greetings. Because that wasn’t who you were. That wasn’t what your relationship was.

You were simply outlets of desire for the other. Casual. So casual, in fact, you couldn’t even be considered friends, despite the similarities between you.

You supposed it was those very similarities that made you both so distant, if you were to really think about it. You had no latent fear of attachment itself, no worry about getting into a relationship or letting someone in, at some point down the line when you considered yourself ready. But as of right now? You had no desire to.

Seungmin was your vice, and you, his. He just happened to be the most effective one you’d had in a long, long time.

The shrill sound that came from your phone pulled you from your thoughts, and you rushed to pick it up with more fervour than you should have.

_[22:49] No. Sorry._

That wasn’t what your relationship was, you told yourself again. He had no obligations to you. You shouldn’t have been annoyed. Had no right to be.

[22:50] Why?

Perhaps you were crossing a line even asking him that.

_[22:51] Seeing someone._

[22:51] Who?

You were replying too quickly. Asking too much, you knew. But Seungmin… he was _your_ vice, and you knew the increase in your heart rate to be a result of that meagre annoyance with the shift in your plans.

_[22:53] Does it matter?_

You supposed it didn’t. Or it shouldn’t have, at least. Yet as you read the words that had come back from him, you realised you were about to make the mistake of acting like you cared. And you couldn’t do that.

[22:53] No. Guess not. Have fun then.

With that, you threw your phone to the bed, ignoring the next notification sound that rang through as you began to think of the many other ways you could keep yourself occupied. Perhaps even expel the desires that Seungmin instilled in you.

He could have his fun, his own way. You would have yours. You didn’t need to be together to do that, you’d managed it quite easily before he had come along.

You didn’t care what he was doing. Didn’t care that he was probably halfway to screwing someone else. Didn’t care that this could even be indicative of him losing interest in you altogether.

Because that wasn’t what your relationship was.

You were casual.

* * *

##### “Hey, can I get another?”

You gestured to the young, brunette girl behind the bar, tilting your empty glass to her as you called for a refill.

She nodded quickly, turning from whatever she was doing to grab the whiskey bottle you’d marked as your own for the night.

“Add it to the tab?” She asked as she tipped the bottle upside down, the crisp amber liquid flowing freely into your glass.

You nodded in response, glad that she seemed to be catching on instead of waiting for you to throw her notes like she had the previous three refills. You flashed her a weak smile before she took the bottle away, returning to her duties and leaving you wallowing in your state of self-inflicted misery.

You knew it to be a result of the boredom that had set in during your time in this infernal bar.

Needless to say, that wasn’t what you’d been hoping for.

You’d left your apartment dressed to the nines and ready to hunt, only to wander into your usual haunt and have the confidence promptly sucked from you. The place was essentially empty, save for the few drunken regulars you recognised here and there, doubled over their beers and muttering incessantly to themselves. Certainly not the kind of prey you’d been after.

The only alternative to this, you knew, was the college party. The party that was happening on campus right now, that had been the talk of your classmates for weeks leading up to the event. You’d shut out the rambles of excitement for the most part, only entertaining for a moment that it might be halfway decent to attend, just to watch the idiots trip over themselves with alcohol.

Though you now found yourself seriously considering that even that might be better than this painfully depressive place.

You weighed up the pros and cons, ultimately deciding that any taunts or teases you might get from your peers for even bothering to turn up would be worth it, but only _if_ you could secure yourself a warm body for the night. It wouldn’t be anywhere near as useful as the mature ones you were used to, and indeed, Seungmin was the rare exception when it came to college boys knowing what they were doing.

But either way, your wants clearly weren’t going to find a source of satisfaction here.

And so, your plan was set in stone.

* * *

##### Raucous laughter, blaring music and spinning, multicoloured lights threatened to haze you of every one of your senses as you walked inside the makeshift marquee that had been put up on campus, the location of the party, by all accounts.

It was almost ludicrously huge, the peaks of the tent joining at the very centre, curving inwards in massive domes with the sheer weight of the thick fabric. A haphazard stage had been erected at the front of it for the setup of a backwater, self-proclaimed DJ. Rows of bars were set up at the back, each manned by various students from the unions, each of them serving different things, from alcopops to hard spirits.

The air was thick inside, sweat ridden and almost suffocating, though no one else but you seemed to notice that, and you assumed that to be down to the alcohol.

By the looks of things, this party was already in full swing, and you didn’t recognise half the people that formed the throng of dancing bodies in the centre. It could easily have been everyone from your year with the sheer amount of people here, and you were suddenly glad of that. At least it would make it more difficult for anyone you knew on a base level to spot you.

You pushed your way inside, flashing apologetic glances at the people who weren’t quite tanked up enough to ignore your forceful manoeuvring.

Though as you eventually got to the back of the crowd, to a relatively quiet area of the tent, you didn’t imagine it would be all that difficult to find someone to take home, and neither did you see a need to rush it, now that you were here.

You imagined that, actually, this could be rather entertaining in more ways than one. More ways than you’d initially thought.

No one appeared to be singled out, not a soul left on their own as they were either pulled into the gathering of dancing people or beckoned to a distant corner of the dark, stuffy tent with someone else.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

##### You’d drastically underestimated the benefits of college life.

Of college students, and their tendency to let loose.

Surrounded on all sides by people you didn’t know, nor cared to, you curved your hands over the broad shoulders of the boy in front of you as you danced. He pressed himself to you, large hands holding your hips in guidance, his thigh stuffed between yours as you moved together.

You hadn’t caught his name, couldn’t be sure you’d even heard him speak. The boy behind you was much the same in that regard, nameless and faceless until you turned to smile at him lazily.

He returned the sentiment, winding his arms around your middle, pressing his front to your back.

It wasn’t unpleasant, the way they caged you in. And certainly not untoward with the other sinful things going on around you, though you only caught glimpses of those with the brief passing of illuminating spotlights. Everyone appeared to be in a trance of some form or another, be that alcohol or lust. And you’d never felt so at home.

The worries and stresses of every student here, of assignments, examinations and classwork, of future concerns or lingering feelings of failure had been well and truly dissipated. Temporarily, you knew, but for once you felt a sense of camaraderie with your air-headed classmates. Because ultimately, you were all in the same boat.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that they had needs of their own. Because why shouldn’t they? They were just as young as you, as human as you. Though you doubted that you could identify this party and the vices that were being indulged here as habits, because to date you’d never met anyone who consistently dealt with things the same way you did.

Aside from him.

Seungmin…

You wondered what he was doing right now. How things were going with the person he was supposed to meet. You knew you shouldn’t have.

With those thoughts came a plethora of emotions, ones that you hadn’t been prepared for. A slight sinking to your stomach, a wrenching of your chest. Something akin to the feeling of panic, though you couldn’t be sure why. It made no sense, on the surface, for you to experience such things just through thinking about him.

Perhaps it was the copious amounts of alcohol in your system that made you less than sensible. That lowered your guard and muddled your emotions, because you knew that normally, you’d never have entertained such a thing.

You needed air. A brief moment to think straight. Collect yourself, then collect these boys, and indulge yourself for a little while.

You shook your head as though to clear it, detangling yourself from the mess of limbs before you pulled the shirts of both boys to bring them close enough to hear you over the thumping EDM track.

“I’m going for a cigarette. Stay where I can find you. You’re mine tonight.”

One swallowed as you pulled away, the other simply nodded in knowing, licking his lip subtly before you released them with a smile.

You shoved your way back through the crowd, not offering the same apologies you had done the first time around.

Approaching the heavy curtain that covered the entrance to the tent, you threw it aside, showing the guarding bouncer the faded stamp on your hand that signified you’d paid your entrance fee, and intended to return once you’d had a moment.

The cool outside air embraced you wonderfully, offering a sharp awakening to the daze you’d found yourself in. A deep breath almost burnt your lungs, the sensation seeming almost foreign with the stuffy air you’d been surrounded with until now. It was sobering, and entirely welcome.

You fished into your back pocket, fumbling for the pack of cigarettes you knew to be there as you headed towards the rear end of the tent, down a grassy embankment.

Tugging them out, you flipped open the packet, taking one between your fingers and bringing it to your lips. Your vision blurred as you took the lighter next, one drag of your thumb across the rusty cog doing nothing more than sparking it. One spark, then another, you groaned in frustration as you tried to steady the wobble to your walk, opting instead to stand in place on the grass covered incline.

“Need a hand?”

The voice wouldn’t have caught your attention normally. Normally, you’d have ignored it, brushing off the question as an unwanted interaction.

But this did catch your attention. Because it wasn’t unwanted.

You glanced up, the unlit cigarette hanging from your lips as you gawped in awe.

“S- Seungmin?”

“Hi.”

You pulled the cigarette out, about to put it back into the packet when he stopped you. A gentle hand on yours, the touch made you freeze for a moment, your gaze locking to his features.

His black hair fell over his deep brown eyes, his lips pursing mildly as he took the cigarette from you. He brought it up to you, sweeping the pad of his thumb over the surface of your bottom lip before he placed it there carefully.

“Didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” he mumbled, flicking the lighter deftly and holding it to the end of the cigarette.

You shook your head as much as you dared, dragging in the beginnings of the smoke as it caught.

“Neither did I,” you replied, your voice laced with stuffiness, “I guess I’ve surprised myself.”

He raised an eyebrow in questioning, clearly needing you to elaborate.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged, waving it off as you proceeded to sit down on the grass beneath you.

Much to your surprise, he joined you, shrugging off his jacket as he settled next to you. He shook it out quickly, throwing it over your bare legs with a level of care you weren’t used to from him. This wasn’t what you did. It was throwing you off.

“Why are _you_ here?” You questioned, offering him a drag of the cigarette, to which he obliged.

“I was meeting someone, remember?”

Here? Of all places?

“Right. You were. They’re at the party?”

He shook his head, waving away the smoke that seeped from his parted lips.

“She lives on campus,” he muttered, taking another brief drag.

A silence settled in as the two of you looked up at the night sky above, the stars dulled and quiet in reflection of the glaring lights that surrounded the tent. It was quieter out here, though the faint bass line of the internal EDM track could still be heard, and it was more comforting than you’d have thought it could be.

“I… uh,” you began, hesitating on the words you wanted to say, but were so unsure of. “I wanted to apologise. For earlier, for prying. I know it’s none of my business.”

He shook his head, waving off the apology as he exhaled more smoke.

“Don’t apologise. I’ll tell you if it means that much to you.”

_If it means that much to you._

The implication behind his words was more frustrating than you thought he knew. Almost patronising, as if your care was a thing that existed at all, and that he’d entertain it if he thought it’d keep you quiet, keep you from complaining. It got your back up almost immediately.

“It doesn’t mean a damn thing to me, Seungmin. You can do what you want. Who you want.”

“I know,” he sighed, glancing at you briefly as he handed you the burning cigarette, “just like you can. Right?”

“Right.”

More silence, heavier than the last. You took a deep drag from the stick, the subsequent smoke drying out your throat, the hit of nicotine doing less and less for you each time you took it. You no longer got the light-headed rush that used to come with smoking, the sense of satisfaction.

You wondered if all your vices would give out that way, sooner or later.

“It went well?”

“What?” He replied, sweeping his hands through his hair.

“Your thing. With the girl that lives here.”

“Mhm, it went. She did the trick.”

The subsequent ache that wrenched through your chest proved to be more than you’d expected. Just as before, it wasn’t something you were prepared for, and you were damned if you had to slap a meaning to it. Not now, nor ever.

Seungmin could do what he wanted. He’d done just that, and the mere thought of being left behind to wallow in whatever it was you were feeling was enough to drive you to your next decision.

You wouldn’t be left behind. Wouldn’t be hooked like a fish to bait.

“You know what?” You sighed, handing him the cigarette. “I think I’m over this. We should stop.”

“Stop?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah… Let’s just stop. We’ve got others we can go to, right? Neither of us _need_ this.”

He blinked at you absently, taking the final inhale of the cigarette before it burnt to the tip. He released the smoke, licking his lip subtly before he stubbed it out on the grass beside him.

“You don’t think you need me?”

His question wasn’t quite what you’d expected. It was rife with implications you couldn’t grasp in your tanked up state, and you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

“I _know_ I don’t, Seungmin. It was fun, but we were casual. No harm, no foul.” You replied, unsure where his train of thought was going.

“Sure. If that’s what you want. No harm done.”

His agreement only worsened the ache in your chest. But what had you expected? For him to grovel and beg for you to change your mind? For him to assure you he’d never see anyone else again? Was that even what _you_ wanted?

“Seungmin, I just…”

“Don’t bother, kitten,” he interrupted, dragging himself up from the grass. “You’ve made yourself clear.”

He brushed himself off, turning on his heel before he began to walk away. You watched him in bewilderment, a thousand different appeals hanging from the tip of your tongue as you realised that you might, for once in your life, harbour regret.

“But for the record,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at you, “if it was casual, you wouldn’t be ending it. Casual arrangements don’t need that. They just… end.”

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps your doing this had told him everything you hadn’t wanted him to know, that the feelings you were experiencing were nothing but confusing. That the mere thought of him with someone else not hours before, sent a rampant jealousy in you that was as undeserved as it was unwarranted.

But you couldn’t tell him that. You didn’t want to.

You didn’t want anything as you watched him walk away, disappearing around the corner of the tent, out of your view.

You simply needed a new habit.

* * *

##### You crashed into your apartment with all the grace of an elephant, the door bouncing from the hinges with your entrance.

You could barely see clearly, much less walk straight, your solution to easing the emotions wrought on you through your earlier confrontation with Seungmin being fairly simple in of itself.

Drink yourself to oblivion. Numb everything. The pain, the pleasure, the thoughts and words, until not a single thing was left.

And by all accounts, you’d done just that.

You stumbled through your living room, finding the sense inside you to at least lock your door before you began discarding your clothes from your person, throwing them to forgotten corners of your place.

Tugging the cigarette pack from your jeans pocket and your phone from the other, you threw them to the sill of your large bay window, using both hands to pry the thing open as best you could.

The rush of air almost knocked you to your back as you managed to get it open, though the sensation was a welcome one. You were too far gone to have any hope of this being a truly sobering embrace, but it was at least sufficient in getting you to focus your vision long enough to light a cigarette and check your phone.

And the first thing you saw, was the message from earlier that night.

The one you’d ignored in your minor upset with him.

_[22:54] I’ll be at the campus party around midnight. Why don’t you meet me there instead?_

He’d wanted to meet you. Invited you to do so, for the first time.

Your hazed state of mind and overly emotional attitude read too much into it almost immediately, a new sense of regret overpowering the grip of the alcohol that had so wonderfully numbed you until now.

You caught the cigarette between your lips, holding it aside as you focused on the brightly lit screen. Tapping a coherent message proved to be your first challenge, but somehow, you managed to get it done.

[02:31] Im sorry. I fuckjed up. I dp need u, u were right. M sorrey.

More or less coherent, anyway.

Had you been in a proper state of mind, had even a shred of rational thought about you, perhaps you’d have felt more regret in the act of apologising in such a way. Regret for apologising at all, for telling him you needed him when you’d so stalwartly convinced yourself that you hadn’t.

It wasn’t that you loved him. Even in your intoxicated state, you could be assured of that. He’d simply crawled under your skin, made himself a space in you that couldn’t be replaced with your usual methods of satiating the wants and needs.

Perhaps it was already too late. In which case, you had nothing to lose. You’d probably never see him again outside of class anyway.

_[02:34] Are you at your place?_

Your eyes blew open in surprise as the message came back from him, far quicker than you were used to.

[02:34] Yes

_[02:35] I’m on my way. Sober up._

* * *

##### You’d tried to follow Seungmin’s instructions as best you could, your desire burning anew the moment he’d confirmed he was coming.

A cold shower, a strong coffee and several additional cigarettes had done their part inasmuch as they could to sober you, and while you were still under the swaying effects of general booze, you almost definitely had more wits about you than you did an hour ago.

The heavy rapping on your door told you that your time was up, and that this was just how you’d have to deal with things now.

You tugged your oversized shirt down over your modesty, not having the capacity in your frame of mind to manage putting on new clothes fresh from the shower. Your hair still damp, body bare beneath the thin cotton shirt, you wandered over to the door and tugged it open.

To find _him_ stood there.

Dark eyes raked over your form immediately, lingering at the dangerously short hem and at the chest, where the material clung to your post-shower body.

He cocked his head, taking a step inside and kicking the door closed behind him.

“Did you mean what you said?” He rasped, towering over you.

You nodded gently, suddenly feeling all the smaller around him, more vulnerable than you ever had. Perhaps it was the way his eyes had hooded slightly, how his jaw seemed locked with tension. Or perhaps you were still drunk.

“Speak, Y/N. Tell me you meant what you said, or tell me that it was the drink talking.”

You weren’t sure what had happened to make him lose the little patience he appeared to have, you wondered if that was something you’d done. You wouldn’t have been able to blame him if it were.

“I meant it,” you breathed, hand outstretched to rest on the buckle of his jeans, “it wasn’t the drink. It was me.”

He seemed to tense further, inhaling sharply.

“You’re a coward,” he hissed, backing you up to the wall of your porch. “You say that kind of shit over a text, but you won’t say it to my face?”

“I _can_ say it to your face,” you retorted, and perhaps it was childish of you. But the way he’d snaked his arm around your waist was already threatening to rob you of your inhibitions, made worse as he pressed himself to you against the wall.

“Do it then. Say it.”

You swallowed thickly, his lips inches from yours, teasing and challenging.

“I… I-”

Hesitation stole the words from you, Seungmin cocking his head in amusement, beckoning you.

“I, uh… I-”

“You can’t, can you?” He scoffed, his voice low. “You know why you can’t?”

He snaked his arm back around you, hand at the hem of your shirt as he began to hike up the material over your naked form. Your lips parted expectantly, your lids fluttering as you felt his gentle fingertips ghost over the skin of your outer thigh.

“Because we’re not lovers, Y/N. Not a couple, not even friends. We’re barely acquaintances. We don’t owe each other a goddamn thing.”

He paused, holding your eye contact as your breathing intensified.

“Want me to tell you what happened tonight?” He muttered.

You nodded lazily, stifling a quiet whimper as his long digits slid through your gap, glossing across the folds over your sex.

“You made the mistake of getting jealous. I knew it, the fucking second you asked me who I was seeing… That you were attached. And so you panicked. Called it off. Thought that removing me from your life would remove me from your system, but kitten… You know it doesn’t work like that, right?”

“It w- works… How I say it works-”

“Hush…” he cooed, slicking his middle finger through your arousal, bringing the firm pad of his thumb to your clit, “don’t fuck this up again. I’m giving you another chance. Because I know you need me. Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Slow, tentative glosses across your clit made your knees buckle, Seungmin’s arm around your waist just enough to keep you up. You curled your fingers to his shirt, desperation building fiercely with every sultry word from him, every touch.

“I know that you can’t tell me to my face… And that’s fine, kitten. If I’m being honest, I can’t either. But believe me when I tell you that you’re the best fuck I’ve had in a _long_ time. Tonight only confirmed that for me.”

“Me…? I’m the b- best?” You stammered, hardly believing what you were hearing.

He hummed in response, closing the distance between you as he captured your lips in quite possibly the most passionate kiss he’d ever given you. Instantly deep with the way his tongue slicked against yours, subtle sounds of moisture sending you dizzy.

He broke it momentarily, bringing his fingers up from your heat. Coated in your substance, he pressed them to your lips, dragging the flesh before he caught them with his own lips once again.

Everything he’d said had registered with you, the reasoning and the way he seemed to know exactly what had gone through your head tonight before you had yourself. You had gotten attached, and though it was only for a moment, now you were glad of the feelings you’d cursed out at the time.

Because they’d brought you here.

“We’re under each others’ skin, kitten. You’re a toxin I can’t shake now, and you’ll never be free of me. I think it’s best we just accept that…”

His hands dropped to the buckle of his jeans, the clinking of metal and sliding of a zipper sending the butterflies wild in your stomach. You laced your hands to the back of his neck, one leg hitching at his waist, eager to be filled by him all over again.

He smiled brazenly as he reconnected the kiss, hiking you up in his arms. Your shirt was ridden to your chest, the rough material of his jeans pinching at your thighs as he carried you to the sofa, settling into the seat comfortably with you in his lap.

You writhed and panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and mussing his hair. You ran your hands through it affectionately, tugging at the roots and holding his head back, kissing him furiously while he shimmied his own jeans down just enough to free his length from its’ confines.

“You’re good for this, right?” He whispered, checking in a final time, before neither of you would be able to.

“I’m _so_ good,” you whimpered, holding your weight on your trembling thighs, eager to sit and have him inside you, “I might not be able to say it, but I can show you, right?”

A chuckle of appreciation escaped him, clearly satisfied that his train of thought had gotten through to you. Because it had. You were firmly on the same page, any worries of emotions or anything else getting in the way being the furthest thing from your mind.

Perhaps that was because he’d confirmed there was no one better than you. You knew that to be in the physical sense, and that it could even have been considered shallow of you to feel so swollen with pride through such a flippant compliment.

But right now, it was enough. Enough to get you to beg for him, if he’d asked you to. Enough to get you to fuck him like your life depended on it, because it very well could have.

You weren’t naive enough to consider yourself more than an outlet of pleasure for him, because it worked both ways now. He could objectify you, humiliate you, trivialise you and own you, as long as it meant he’d come crawling back to you at the end of the day.

His teeth locked together as he begun to lower your hips slowly with one hand, his free hand holding the base of rigid cock. A gentle prod at your entrance, an unplanned slip with your wetness as he tried to ease it in, and you simply keened at the sensation.

You held yourself up, aiding him as best you could until he sunk in to the head, secure enough to remove his hand. You took control the rest of the way, slicking down over him until your cheeks connected with his lap. A groan of satisfaction ripped from you, his head thrown back to the sofa in tensity, eyes closed and cheeks burnt.

He filled you so well, every inch of him solid and smooth, even moreso as you began to lift yourself over him. It was shaky at best, your motions uncertain as the knot in your core began to build faster than you’d expected, but that was simply what he did to you.

He took hold of your shirt, yanking it over your head to allow himself to appreciate your naked form. Two hands held your waist, slid up to your ribs, his lean fingers moulding your flesh as he explored you. He cupped at your breasts, pushing them together before he laved his tongue through your cleavage, wet and hot, much like your arousal as you continued to ride him.

“K- Kitten… fuck, slow down-”

You shook your head desperately in refusal, sinking to his hilt and grinding on his lap, eager for friction on your clit as you sought it from his pubic bone. Any stimulation, any pleasure you could get, you clawed at, sinful in your intentions with him.

He laughed quietly, an act of exasperation more than anything, clearly resigning himself to letting you have your way. But it wouldn’t be without his help.

His hand slipped between you, dropping one of your breasts as he held his fingertips to your clit. He bunched three of them together, curling them just enough that you’d feel them when you rolled forwards, changing the angle when you brought yourself up over his cock so you’d rub against them when you sunk down.

He was always there, always attentive, your whimpers and tremors only worsening with every delicious motion you made. You tightened around him impossibly, a subsequent hiss escaping him as he felt it around his cock, his chest heaving.

Yet perhaps the frustration had affected you more than you thought, because as much as your pleasures were being soothed just through having him inside you like this, you were also having a hard time with it.

Your body simply refused to cave as it normally did, the knot in your core wound so tightly that nothing you could do on your own would expel it.

Once again, you needed him.

“I c- can’t… I can’t c-”

“I got you, baby. Relax… Here.”

He spoke words of assurance and understanding as he lifted you from his lap, your pleasure taking precedence.

“You’re too worked up,” he murmured, resting you to your back on the sofa, settling between your legs, “Stop trying so hard, kitten. Let me take care of you, hm?”

Gentle kisses to your jawline and neck made your back arch from the leather, your breathing still ragged and laboured as he disappeared from your view. Wet, open-mouthed presses across your chest, down your abdomen and navel, finally ending at your hips. It almost tickled, the way he smothered you with his affection, a cry of desire ripping from your throat as he lapped tenderly at your throbbing clit.

And suddenly, the contact was lost.

“Wait here-” He breathed as he rushed from the sofa, leaving you taut and tense.

He reappeared as quickly as he’d gone, though not empty handed.

“Wh- What?”

“Just trust me. I know you do.” He soothed, pressing the small button on the end of the tiny silver bullet he’d retrieved from your room.

You’d only mentioned your ownership of the thing in passing to him once, and you could hardly believe he’d remembered.

But as the subtle vibrations of the toy reverberated throughout the room, his large hands parting your thighs as he slotted between them, you’d never been more grateful for his excellent memory.

He grabbed a cushion from the back of the sofa, beckoning you to lift your hips before he slipped it beneath you. The support angled you upwards, making it all the easier for him to glide back inside you in one, fluid motion.

More groans of pleasure as he reconnected the two of you, several languid snaps of his hips fucking you deeper than he ever had before. It was inexplicable, the way he stimulated your g-spot in this position, yet the addition of the bullet was earth shattering.

Gentle vibrations graced your clit as he fucked you, both of your tender, sensitive areas being attended to at once. He smirked wickedly, watching the way you writhed beneath him like it was an art form, gripped with a sense of smug satisfaction that was entirely fucking deserved.

“H- Holy f- _fuck_ … Seungmin, oh m- my g-”

“Mhm, that’s it baby… This better? This what my needy little slut wanted?”

Rampant, white hot pleasure seeped through every one your nerves, a pressure building in your core, waves of numbness claiming you fiercely as he hooked your leg over his shoulder. He increased his pace as he lowered himself over you, still holding the vibrating bullet to your clit with his free hand, circling it gently.

You quivered with the sensations, tears of salacious wanting escaping you involuntarily. You clawed at his chest, your vision starred, his cheeks burnt and the veins in his neck protruding with the exertion of his efforts.

“Cum for me, baby, _fuck_ -”

More pressure in your core, an overwhelming need to release gripped you as he plunged himself in and out, in and out, his glides effortless with how utterly soaking you’d become. Your muscles tensed, the fire in your sex spreading to your lower body, your thighs and toes, your chest and head, one wail of desire after another filling the room in addition to the pornographic sounds of moisture and skin slapping against skin.

And before you could even hope to register it, you were releasing. Warm and fast over his throbbing cock, a gush of your substance escaped you in orgasm, your g-spot being responsible for that. Your head blanked, your body quaked violently as the stimulation to your clit rendered you useless.

Seungmin followed almost immediately, your loss of inhibition contributing to his own as you tightened and convulsed around his length. One thrust, then another, a third and final rut of his own shot his release inside you, hot and thick, just as brutal as yours had been.

It was in that moment of post-coital bliss as he collapsed atop you, your frantic heartbeat and his synchronising in your clammy euphoria, that you were granted a measure of clarity. As though you’d quite literally had your sense fucked back into you.

Whatever your relationship was, whatever potential it had to be something more, it was largely irrelevant when you were with each other like this.

Whether you were putting his needs first, or him yours, whether it was you instigating it, or him, you knew you could no longer think of him as a simple habit, casual or otherwise.

The nicotine rush from your cigarettes had dissipated a long time ago. You’d wondered before if all your habits would wear out much the same way, with the passage of time and your complacency to them.

Now you had your answer. Because Seungmin had been right. He was under your skin, in every sense of the word.

Unlike the ashen cigarettes or the numbing booze, Seungmin had become a hopeless addiction.

One that would never lose its’ rush, or its’ appeal.

One that might end you, if you allowed it.

**Author's Note:**

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